Friday, October 24, 2014

Parshat Noach: Confounded Language

Today, I have no solutions. I have no new, novel ideas to solve the crisis and stop the violence. And, frankly, even if I did, I’m not sure I would be able to articulate it in a way that people could understand. I would be speaking in my own language, just as your solution would have its own language as well. But, despite our confuddled language, I hope that there is still space for us to talk.

For some of you, this might sound familiar. You could consider this my "take 2" at an Israel sermon after speaking on the subject back on the evening of Rosh Hashanah. I thought about just saying that one again. Who knows how many of you actually stayed awake through the whole thing. But, it has been suggested to me that that would not be a great idea. On Rosh Hashanah, I spoke about the importance of presence and hope as we create space for Israel conversations. Today, I hope to follow up on that message.

I want to tell you two stories, but I am going to tell them together. One is an ancient tale that comes from today’s Torah portion in the Book of Genesis, Chapter 11: the Tower of Babel. The other story started 66 years ago: the story of the State of Israel.

It all began with unfathomable destruction upon the face of the earth. An entire generation, wiped out, except for a small remnant. Just a fraction of the family that once was. For the account in Genesis: Noah and the flood. For Israel: the Jewish people and the Holocaust.

After the waters cleared, after the camps were liberated, the UN partition plan was approved, the remaining family began to build anew. Noah planted a vineyard; David Ben Gurion set out to make the desert bloom.

The family began to grow. Noah’s family created many generations that started to repopulate the earth; meanwhile, new waves of immigrants came from across the globe to make their permanent residence in the newly founded state of Israel.

Then, united by common language, shared history, and by function of being in the same location, the people began to set about their task. The generations of Noah said: “Come! Let us build a city and a tower with its top in the heavens.” הָבָה נִבְנֶה-לָּנוּ עִיר, וּמִגְדָּל וְרֹאשׁוֹ בַשָּׁמַיִם (Genesis 11:4). And we will make a name for ourselves lest we be scattered upon the face of the earth.

But, what was the Tower of Babel actually for? Some said that the tower was to be built all the way to the heavens and they would place a sword on top, plotting war against God. Some insisted the people were worried that the sky might fall, that destruction could rain down upon them again. The tower, then, was a pillar, a support to hold up the sky. They built it in order to keep themselves and the world safe from danger. Yet others said it was simply a monument so that this people would be remembered forever for this achievement.

But, eventually, this one people, speaking one language and being of one, uniform opinion, became blinded by the pursuit of this ambition. The people were so concerned about the tower that when a brick fell, all the people would cry and mourn, but, when a human fell from the tower while trying to place a brick, no one even noticed.

And God, noticing their misguided, laser-like focus says: enough is enough. To bring an end to their project, God confounded their language בָּלַל יְהוָה, שְׂפַת כָּל-הָאָרֶץ (Gen 11:9). God spread the people out and made them all speak different languages so that one person could no longer understand the words of her friend. And the building of the tower to the sky ended.

This is where the stories split. While the generation of Babel sought to glorify themselves, the State of Israel was built to be an אור לגוים, a light unto the nations, that displayed the best of what we could accomplish. A nation that would glorify Jewish tradition and serve as a home for the Jewish people.

Yet, here we are. A people who speak in countless languages, diverted from our task, unsure what our next steps should be.

And what about us, we who live an ocean away? We might not be the “babbled generation,” but we are not far off. We are scattered. Our language on Israel has also been babbled. We now speak different words with different meaning, intent, inspiration, and aspiration. In truth we struggle to hear, to truly understand, those with whom with disagree.

Part of the reason we can’t hear each other is because, reasonably, the crisis we see in Israel inspires fear and insecurity. Afraid, we focus on ourselves have trouble hearing the words of others. And, furthermore, when we speak from a place of fear, feeling backed into a corner, we say things that later we regret, making future conversations even harder. Today, thankfully, we have had the chance to reflect. To recall what it felt like to be afraid, but also what it feels like to consider our goals for the future.

So where then do we go? How, living in a community that is dispersed, physically and ideologically, and babbled, can we recapture the principles of the original project of building? The project of Zionism, the project of the State of Israel began with good intentions and that intent still remains, but in trying to reach toward the sky, mistakes were made. Focused on the task, building took precedence over people and our conversations detoured from collective purpose to confusion, fear, sadness, and anger. As a people, we need to learn to speak together again. To speak in a language that all people can hear.

That is not to say that “the Jewish voice” on Israel must be singular and unchanging. The Tower of Babel story warns us against that singled-minded, blind ambition. Rather, as Rabbi Mary Zamore wrote in this week’s ten minutes of torah:

True peace, true unity lies in respectful diversity…only when we learn to co-exist as different nations, cultures, religions, lifestyles, and languages will we find true peace.[1]

The rabbis taught that because of the sins committed during the building of the Tower of Babel, God confounded the language of the people…but in the future, the rabbis assert, everyone will speak again in one language. And that language will be one of praise and worship, and, I would add, one that shows love for God through our love for the dignity, for the spark of divinity within every person.

We can talk of conflict. We can talk of fear. We talk can of aspiration and hope. But, for us, for the Jewish world, to speak with one voice, we must try to understand different languages and always have an eye toward human dignity and peace.


[1] http://www.reformjudaism.org/learning/torah-study/noach/babel

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